Cacoethes
by Reana
Summary: Nita struggles with desire that she knows is wrong, yet cannot deny. COMPLETED.
1. Regret

**While reading a facfic by PeanutButterOreoCookieGirl99 entitled "A Wizard's Truth," the inspiration for this fic hit me. I think it is different from where she is heading, but if not, I'm sorry. I should be quick with an update for this. I don't think this will turn into an insanely long fic... a couple chapters at the most. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the context.

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Nita hit her forehead against the wall. How had this happened? Why had she allowed this to happen? What would happen to her now?

She glanced down at her naked body and at the twisted sheets on the bed. She gathered her scattered clothing from around the room, pulling on each item as she found it. From the moment she first kissed him, she knew... and yet, she didn't stop. She didn't leave. She didn't even try. What the hell was wrong with her?

_He used some sort of power over me... _she insisted in her mind.

But she could not even convince herself for a moment that this was true. He did not use a power, and she knew it. Yet, neither could she admit the real reason to herself—the only other explanation was much less flattering.

_He seduced me... and I let him. I didn't protest at all... either of the times..._

Fully dressed, Nita sank against the wall. How could she return home? How could she face her father? How could she face Kit? He'd know. Powers, Kit would know... he knew her far too well. How could she bear to continue, knowing what she had done? Or, moreover, who she had done it with...


	2. Frisbee

**Crazy. Brilliant, but crazy... the highest of compliments, whether in regard to the fic or to me... Everyone enticed yet?**

**Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing... except maybe the long** **wavy hair... I'm swooning...**

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_Two Weeks Earlier_

Nita ambled through Central Park, breathing deeply of the semi-fresh air. This bit of nature, located inside the bustling city, always relaxed her. The trees, most of who were well acquainted with Nita, called out cheerfully as she passed. After a while, she paused to chat with a certain elm that she had found to be quite amiable in the past.

_Where is your wizard friend? _the tree asked, after several minutes of talk regarding the weather.

_Who, Kit? He's out of town for the weekend, _Nita replied.

_Is that why you feel so lonely?_

_What?_she froze.

_Oh, come now, dear. After thirty yeas of watching people, you think I can't sense human emotion?_

Nita sighed. She did miss her best friend dearly, but wasn't aware that her emotions showed so plainly. _Yeah... that's really why I'm here... I thought a walk might cheer me up a bit._

_Yes, this place is always full of cheer... at least during the daylight. Children, young couples, puppies... all the good things in life._

_You like puppies? _Nita asked, for some reason finding the thought of a huge elm tree with a soft spot for puppies humorous.

_Don't__ laugh at me, young one. I like all joyful life, and puppies are the most jovial creatures._

The tree and the teenager lapsed into comfortable silence as Nita rested her head on the rough bark. She slid to the ground, curling comfortably into the elm's trunk.

Suddenly, she was jarred out of her peaceful repose by a flying object that struck her head. She immediately prepared to throw up a shield, one of the spells she always kept near-ready. As she formed the final word on her tongue, she realized what her assailant was. She laughed at herself, dropped the shield preparations, and picked up the lime green Frisbee.

_A Frisbee? You freaked out and nearly threw up defenses over a Frisbee? You really need to relax, Nita, _she mentally scolded herself.

She glanced around to see where this flying object of doom had come from. Her eyes fell on a long, lanky form jogging toward her. As he neared, she waved the Frisbee above her head. He grinned abashedly.

"I take it this contraption belongs to you?"

"Yeah... sorry 'bout that..."

"You nearly took my head off."

"I have terrible aim. I was trying to toss it to Soyo." He gestured to a beautiful mutt behind him.

"You were quite a ways away. Perhaps you simply don't know your own strength," Nita suggested wryly.

"Yeah."

An awkward pause fell between them.

"Why don't you join us?" he finally suggested.

"Oh... really, I'm not very good."

"Well... neither am I, if you hadn't figured that out. Come on, I insist. Just a friendly game of Frisbee. To make it up to you. Do you have anything better to do?"

"Yeah... no." Nita admitted.

_Who is the man, Nita? _asked the elm.

_I don't know... he seems nice enough..._

_He feels strange._

_What?_

"I'm Brandon," he introduced himself, offering Nita a hand up.

As he pulled her to her feet, Nita felt a strange sensation ripple through her arm. She squelched a reaction.

_Stop being paranoid, _she scolded herself again. _First, a Frisbee is a dire attack by the Lone Power... Now, a tree's strange feelings make you question a perfectly innocent stranger inviting you to play Frisbee with him and his dog? Get a grip._

"I'm Nita." She surveyed her new companion. He was near her age, perhaps a year or two older. He had a tall, thin frame, with deep green eyes and wavy hair that fell just above his shoulders. Nita's fingers itched to run through the dark brown ripples, to tuck that one unruly lock behind his ear...

_What has gotten into you, Nita? _she asked herself.

_Oh, do be careful, _the tree warned, as Nita followed Brandon to a slightly larger clearing.

Nita glanced again at Brandon one more time, focusing in on his goofy, inviting smile.

_He sure looks dangerous... _she drawled mentally to the tree. _Besides, what can one little game of Frisbee in a public park hurt?_

**x-x-x-x**

_Present_

Yeah, what could it? Why had she ignored the tree's warning? Why had she ignored her own warnings? If she had listened, if she had paid attention, if she hadn't disregarded years of training and experience, she wouldn't be in this position right now. When did she stop trusting her instincts?

_Well, mainly when __Brandon__ was around. _She scoffed. _Brandon__. Why do I keep calling him Brandon? Like that's his real name... 'a dire attack by the Lone Power'... maybe I should start relying my intuition a bit more..._


	3. Dates

**Okay, this is going to contain slightly more chapters than I originally intended... primarily because the chapters are so short. I think the Single Flashback-Present per chapter is simplest way to avoid confusion. I'm chugging away on this... hopefully I will be able to bring it to some sort of conclusive point by next week, before I go back to school. After that, updates will most likely be few and far between.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine... (Except to gorgeous eyes... still swooning...)**

**ReadingRedhead****: I can't do that to Nita? Watch me. :P**

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_Two Weeks Ago_

"So, am I going to get to see you again?" Brandon asked, lifting his eyes timidly to meet hers.

_Powers, those eyes are gorgeous. _"I suppose... this was a lot of fun," Nita admitted. They sat on a park bench, watching the sunset. Their long Frisbee game had eventually fizzled out, despite Soyo's attempts to rekindle it.

"How about tomorrow? I could come pick you up and we could go out to dinner or something." He looked at her eagerly.

"Well... actually, I don't live in the city. I'm from Hempstead, about twenty miles east of here."

"How'd you get here today?"

"I..." _Made a rapid-transit... you see... I'm a wizard... Yeah, don't think that would go over well. _"I took the bus."

"Do you want me to come to Hempstead or do you want to come here? Or," he chewed his lip, "Maybe you don't want either one."

_Aww__... he's so cute when he's nervous..._ _Kit will still be out of town. I need something to do, and this might get interesting... _"There's nothing to do in Hempstead. I'll come here."

"Great. What bus stop do you want me to meet you at?"

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

_Yesterday_

"Now, you won't be able to get a hold of us, so call the Rodriguez's if something is wrong. And I know you're going out with Brandon tonight... remember to call Kit when you get back to the house, so we know you got home safely." Her father hugged her fiercely. "I can't believe I'm leaving you home alone for an entire weekend."

"Dad... I'm seventeen. I've spent weekends alone—well, without you anyway—in different galaxies. I think I'll be okay in the house. Now, go have fun on your trip." She hugged him again and waved good-bye to Dairine.

"Sure you don't want to come?" Dairine taunted. She was going through an outdoorsy phase and Harry, thrilled with the prospect, was taking her out for a weekend of roughing it.

"I think I'll pass."

Nita stood in the doorway until her father and Dairine finished packing up the car. She waved one more time as they pulled out of the driveway, then walked back into the house.

She flipped on the radio and flopped on the couch. What was she going to do for the next three hours before she had to meet Brandon? Kit was back in town, but they had spent the morning together. Besides, Kit would simply continually tease her about her new boyfriend.

Her boyfriend... She liked the sound of it. The last week and a half had been a blast. After their Saturday of Frisbee, she had met Brandon on Sunday to go rollerblading. After school Tuesday, she returned to the city again, via a bus station bathroom transit, for ice cream and a stroll through Central Park hand-in-hand.

_I hope you know what you're doing..._ her elm friend had commented ominously as they passed. Nita ignored her.

On Friday, at Harry's insistence, Brandon had come over for dinner.

"This Brandon has seen more of you last week than I have. It's high time I met the young man who's stealing my daughter from me."

"Dad!"

"What?"

"Oh... I'll invite him, but promise me you won't say anything like that while he's here."

"Like what?"

Harry did do his best not to embarrass Nita throughout the dinner. Once Brandon had left, he commented, "Well, he seems to be a nice young man."

"He is," she insisted.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

_Present_

Nice young man. Nice young man. He had probably never been referred to as a "nice young man" before and probably never would again. The naivety of it astounded her.

_Nita? _came a familiar voice in her mind.

_K...__ Kit?_

_What's__ wrong? _

_N... nothing. I'm really tired._

_Are you at home? Weren't you supposed to call me? I've been worried sick._

She jolted up and swore aloud. _Sorry...__ I told you I was tired... I forgot... It was kinda late and I just collapsed in bed._

_Okay..._Nita felt Kit's hesitation. _Well, as long as you're safe. I'll let you get back to bed. 'Night, Neets._

_'Night, Kit. Thanks... and I really am sorry..._

They broke the connection. Nita reviewed the conversation in her mind. It was never good to lie, especially in Speech. She had chosen her words very carefully. Hopefully, implied dishonesty wouldn't have too many adverse effects. She was tired, she did forget, and she had collapsed into a bed... it just wasn't her bed.

Sure, now she was worrying about effects. She rubbed her temples

How was she going to explain this to Kit? He knew something was wrong, though he never suspected she was doing anything wrong. He trusted her too much. Now, she had violated that trust.


	4. Preparations

**Not sure if this really advances the plotline any... a lot of setup and a bit of off-subject rambling... Not really tight writing... I should really edit about half of this out... Oh, well... enjoy! (And review...)**

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_Yesterday_

The phone rang, jilting Nita from her drifting thoughts.

"Hello?"

"Nita? It's Brandon. We're still on for this evening?"

"Yeah, 6:30, right?"

"Just making sure. Oh, and wear something dressy... I want to take you out to a nice restaurant."

"Um...okay."

"Well... see you later then."

"Looking forward to it."

"Me too."

Nita placed the phone back in its cradle and made quickly for the stairs. _Something dressy? For a nice restaurant? How nice? I don't have anything suitable for—_

Nita stopped. She did have something. She rushed to her closet and began to dig for small, black cocktail dress she had bought on clearance a couple months ago. She had no definite plans to wear it at the time—perhaps to a school dance eventually. But she had fallen in love with it—it fit marvelously, clinging softly to her waist and hips before swirling out slightly above her knees. Folds of fabric gathered around her neck, then dipped low down her back. She pulled out the dress triumphantly.

**x-x-x**

An hour later, she flung the curling iron down on the bathroom counter and sighed despondently. How had her mother managed such perfect hairstyles with so little effort? Nita had tried for an hour to form her hair into some semblance of nicety. Instead, she had secured a few haphazard curls amidst a lot of frizz. What was she going to do?

_Whatcha__ doin'?_ Kit asked.

_I can't talk right now, _Nita insisted.

_With lover-boy?_

_No...__ getting ready and having a hell of a time with it._

_When do I get to meet the beloved __Brandon_

_Not right now, Kit, _she repeated.

_Wow. You really are uptight. Relax. What's wrong?_

_Just stressed...__ I'm supposed to meet __Brandon__ in less than a hour... I'm supposed to look 'nice', but I'm a mess... I can't get my hair to do anything..._

_What do you normally do to it?_

_Nothing. Wash it... ponytail it... maybe a bun..._

_Well, it normally looks great, so why are you trying to do anything different to it?_

_Because it's not nice!_

_Yes, it is... _Kit attempted to reassure her.

_Thanks, Kit, but no help..._

_You don't believe me?_

_Nope._

_Why not?_

_Because you're Kit, and you have to say things like that._

_I do not._

_You'd__ tell me I was ugly?_

_Never._

_Looked fat in a dress?_

_Absolutely not_

_See?_

_I value my life. But your hair normally does look fine. I can't take much more of this. Have fun with your sweetie pie! _He broke the connection.

Nita laughed. Good ole Kit. She looked in the mirror one more time. Her hair did look a lot worse for her efforts. She stuck her head under the sink, then squeezed her hair with a towel. She brushed it smooth, twisted it into a bun, and secured it with a hair tie. It wasn't too fancy, but neither was it hideous. Struck with hopeful aspiration, she tugged two short strands of hair out of the bun and, tongue peaking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, carefully curled the strands to frame her face. Perfect.

Quickly, she unplugged the curling iron, slipped the dress over her head, and began a fierce debate with herself.

_Hose or no hose? I hate hose... but they're dressy... mom would say I needed hose with this dress... oh... but I do so hate hose... no hose!_

That decided, she grabbed a sparkly pair of flip-flops from her closet.

_These are dressy, right? Damn it, perhaps I should have paid more attention to all that fashion crap. Oh, well...they're much more comfortable than the heels. Now, make-up? _

She glanced at herself in the mirror.

_Not too hideous.__ No make-up._

Satisfied, she grabbed a small black purse from her dresser, a Christmas gift she thought she'd never use, stuffed in a few essentials, and pulled out her manual. She flipped rapidly through its pages, checking coordinates and searching for an unoccupied location at or near the bus station. That done, she began her transit circle. A small _pop!_of air later, she appeared in an empty bathroom stall.

She quickly left the stall, checked her reflection one more time in the mirror, and hurried out to look for Brandon.

**x-x-x**

"I had a lovely time," Nita commented as she and Brandon left the restaurant. "Thank you for dinner."

"No problem." Brandon slipped his arm around her waist. Nita relaxed into his embrace, full of delicious food and drunk with first love. "What now?"

Nita glanced at the orange and pink streaked sky. "I don't know. I have plenty of time before I need to get home, though."

"Want to come over to my apartment? I rented _Collateral, _but I haven't watched it yet. It's supposed to be really good."

"Uh..." Nita hesitated. Suspicion was instinctive—she had read too many stories of men luring young girls to their apartments.

_Oh, come on..._part of her mind urged her._ This is Brandon. He's not a random stranger off the street. You've known him for several weeks, and he hasn't even tried to kiss you yet. I don't think he's going to force you into anything. And even if he tries, you've got millions of ways to defend yourself or get away instantly._

"I'd love to."

**x-x-x-x-x**

_Present_

Nine hours ago, all he had to worry about was her hair. She laughed aloud at this irony, but it was a bitter, painful laugh.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Ignoring her intuition again. She could have prevented this mess so easily. Of course, hindsight is always 20/20. What the hell was she going to do?

_Just go home, Nita, _her rational voice piqued up._ Just trace out the coordinates, go home, and go to bed._

Yeah, like she could sleep now.

_More of a chance than you'll have here. _

But her family...

_Is out of town._

And Kit...

_Tell him in the morning._

But what will he think? What will he say?

_Who knows? But you've been in tough scrapes before. Let him help you._

It almost seemed to Nita that she was arguing with someone other than herself. Sighing, she drew herself up and began the draw the coordinates.

The apartment door opened.

"Leaving so soon?"


	5. Revelations

**Sorry I've been so long with an update. Though the chapter still isn't exactly as I wanted it, I've finally decided to leave it as it is. It's stubbornly resisting much change. This, as most of the story, is OOC for Nita, perhaps more so than can simply be chalked up to hormones and all that jazz. But it has to be that way to the story to exist, so I supposed that this is a moot point. I'm glad my fan base has extended. Even though ReadingRedhead is a marvelous reviewer—I'm happy with just her—I'm ecstatic with more of you. Enjoy (or don't), then review regardless.**

**Ashgrl: I went back and read that review I left—ouch. I must have been in a particularly bitchy mood that day. I mean, those were things that I would have pointed out anyway, but usually I try to be at least vaguely kind and constructive in my remarks. I'm sorry—I'll try to do better next time.**

**Disclaimer: Yada yada yada... you know it's fanfic and that I own nothing; I know it's fanfic and that I own nothing. It's assumed. I think this will be my last disclaimer.**

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_Yesterday, __11:30 PM_

Nita curled against Brandon on the couch. The ending credits to the movie rolled as she readjusted herself so that she could look up at him.

"So, what'd ya think?"

He gazed down, tightening his arms around her. "I think you're beautiful."

Nita flushed, thankful for the relative darkness of the room.

"I mean it." He traced a finger down her check and neck. "You're absolutely dazzling."

She smiled and nestled into his shoulder. He softly kissed her cheek and she turned her face toward him, their lips centimeters apart.

Brandon hesitated, pulling back slightly. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

_Are you sure you're ready for this? _Nita repeated incredulously in her mind. _What kind of über-polite ­­­guy have I found? He asking for permission to kiss me? Ronan never asked. It just... happened._

Instead of answering, Nita pressed her lips to his. Instantly, her mind and body were assailed with not just her own emotions and sensations, but by another set as well.

_Impossible. He's not a..._

"No!" Nita tore away as his presence touched her mind. This was not the refreshing green of Ronan she had basked in beneath the Irish moon, nor the solid blue of Kit she had discovered on one wayward and never-again-mentioned evening. It was a cold black, almost an emptiness.

"You're—"

His shoulders slumped and He sighed. "I couldn't hold it back any longer."

"But then—you—me—the," Nita stuttered, her mind awhirl. An image as herself as Sally Fields in Mrs. Doubtfire popped in her head, and she just barely bit back screaming, "The whole time? The whole time?!"

"I've been so attuned with you the last several days, but I tried to hold all the feelings back. I knew you'd know the moment you could feel them. But some things are out of the Powers' hands. We're both fluent in the Speech—I couldn't hold it back any longer," he repeated.

"Oh, drop the act." Nita looked at Him, struggling to differentiate the kind Brandon she had fallen for and the merciless entity that had introduced pain and suffering and death into the world.

"I'm flattered," he drawled, losing Brandon's boyish innocence. "Merciless? Really, now. We might have an engaging discussion some time on how death is the ultimate mercy. But perhaps on another occasion."

"There won't be another occasion."

"Haven't you been having a good time?"

"It's all been a lie." Nita turned to the door.

"I've never lied to you."

"What?" she spat, flying around to face him. "Everything out of your mouth has been a lie. Brandon? Moved in to this studio apartment to get away from your father? Working to save up enough to start college? You love dogs and spaghetti and rocky road ice cream? What the hell to you take me for?"

She turned again to leave, but He grabbed her wrist. With no more barriers, thought and emotion rushed over her. She jerked at the intensity and found herself drawn toward Him once more. Again, the cold blackness engulfed her, smothered her—but at the same time, it intrigued her. The kiss deepened, and she found herself back on the couch, exploring Him. She pushed deeper into the blackness as her hands danced over bare skin. It seemed endless, save for sporadic speckles of random color. She heard her zipper unzip and felt the dress slide from her shoulders.

_Wait! This is happening too fast! _a small rational voice in the back of her mind protested. But that small voice was no match for the overwhelming blackness, the radiating passion, and the millions of years of evolutionary biology at work.

_But He's the—_

­She gasped as He kissed tender flesh.

_I can't—I don't want—stop!_

_Do you really mean that? _He asked in her mind, not pausing their frantic, desperate engagement.

Her small voice of reason could not find strength enough to protest.

**x-x-x-x-x**

_Present_

"Leaving so soon?"

"Yes."

"Oh, for real this time?"

"Yes. Stay away from me."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Nita paused. "I know."

He looked at her for a moment. "I see. It's not Me you are worried about. You don't trust yourself anymore."

Nita didn't reply.


	6. Subsequently

_Earlier, 2:30 A.M_

Nita awoke next to Him. Somehow they had progressed from the couch to the bed across the room.

"Damn." She sat up quickly as the night's events—the fervor, the entangled bodies, but most of all, Brandon's true identity—overcame her.

"Damn," she repeated, glancing about wildly.

He stretched lazily. "Okay. What would you like me to damn? After last night, I suppose I owe you a few favors."

"Damn you and me and this whole cursed situation." Nita shook with internal humiliation and rage.

"Oh, surely it wasn't that bad. From this end..."

"Stop it. What were you thinking? What was I thinking? Why—"

"You were lonely."

"What first the tree, now You?"

"Your emotions are easy to read."

"When did You become so soft? Why does it matter that I was lonely?"

"Don't worry about it."

"You're exploiting me."

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, caressing her gently. Nita drew in a sharp gasp and arched forward, catching His lips with hers.

"I'll take that as a no..." He murmured into her ear. "One of the benefits of being all-knowing... I know exactly how to make it so you don't want to leave..."

"You're manipulating me."

He chuckled. "Get used to it, kid. Even the best relationships are one part compassion and four parts sexual manipulation."

"Where's the compassion?"

"You're enjoying this just as much as I am—maybe even more."

With effort, Nita wrenched herself away from Him.

"Attraction and physical pleasure aren't compassion."

"But they help."

"I'm leaving."

"Okay."

"And leave me alone. Don't try to keep me here or come after me later."

"Okay. You're free to go at anytime. I may have _manipulated," _He drew the word out sarcastically, "But I won't force. You'll come back."

"Never."

"We'll see," He smiled smugly. "We'll see..."

"No, _we _won't. There is no more _we_. There never was a _we_. There was only me and a bunch of lies."

"And a great sexual experience you'll want to repeat."

"Don't bet on it."

"Why not?"

"Oh, and I'm not supposed to let a little thing like our roles in the universe get in the way?"

"It hasn't stopped countless couples throughout history. I believe one of your playwrights—Shaw, if I remember his name correctly—put it best: 'The strongest sexual attraction may exist between persons so incompatible in tastes and capacities that they could not endure living together for a week, much less a lifetime.'"

"I'm sure You had nothing to do with any of those failed relationships."

"Never. I really am quite an amiable fellow, if quite often misunderstood. I always have everyone's best intentions in mind."

Nita snorted. "I'm sure Hitler did as well."

"Hitler. Nasty fellow. That is not the way death was supposed to be at all, not at all."

"Oh, really?" Nita raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I told you, death is the ultimate mercy."

Nita snorted again.

"This is the most peculiar pillow talk," He commented. "Enough of it. Come back to me." He reached out and drew her towards him.

All her intentions of leaving flew out of her mind.

"I can't..." she started feebly.

"Yes, you can. I _know_ you can..."

**x-x-x-x-x**

_Present_

"Oh, struck a nerve, did I?"

Nita reached for the doorknob.

"Come now. If you've already lost trust in yourself, what is a cinnamon crunch bagel going to hurt?"

She turned slowly to face him. "What?"

He waved a paper bag. "I just picked them up from the bakery. I know they're your favorite."

Nita began to laugh bitterly. It wasn't until a drop of salty fluid fell from her cheek that she realized that her laugh was not a laugh at all, but a sob of desperation.


	7. Confession

**Sorry I've been so long with an update. Having six to midnight rehearsals at a theater thirty minutes from my house doesn't leave much room for writing in my schedule. I'm at the tail-end of my spring break now, but I had trouble with this chapter. I do have the next installment almost finished—I wrote it before this one because I had the vision for it. Nita's characterization was easier; I'm still not sure I captured that exactly as I wanted during this chapter. Feedback?**

**To those of you who were lost by my confusing timeline, the flashbacks have caught up with the story. No guarantees that I won't play with the timeline again, but for now, everything is _Present_. **

**I'm not sure about this new rating system. I'm probably going to have to bump it up to "M"—it seems a little higher than the "T" standards. I'm hesitant, because that will mean I won't be listed on the default YW page—you will have to go searching for this story. But I don't want to have an incorrect rating. Alas. **

**Well, enjoy the chapter. Then review. Or hate the chapter and leave me a review of all my many faults. I don't care. Just read it and write me your reactions. Now. : D**

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Nita sat up groaning. Her eyes were dry and itchy; her head throbbed with an insistent pounding that resulted from crying herself to sleep once she transited back home.

The alarm clock flashed 10:52. Nita lay back down, pulling the covers over her head. Though the sun shone insistently through her open blinds, boldly announcing the morning, Nita had slept less than three hours. _Not counting the sleep I got at Brandon's…_

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the previous night's events. _Maybe it was all a dream… a really terrible, but incredibly graphic dream that Freud would have a heyday with._

No such luck. The thoroughly crumpled black dress that twisted around her, her aching body, the pounding headache, and her cried-out eyes all testified against her wishful thinking. Moreover, the experience lay too vividly in her mind to be the result of random flashes of her brain while she slept.

_What have I done? _she asked herself for the trillionth time in the last ten hours, even though the answer was obvious.

_I had sex. After dating the guy two weeks. As if that weren't bad enough, the particular guy happened to be a Power…_

Nita couldn't help but laugh bitterly as a thought struck her. _I wonder if this is how the ancient Greeks on whom Zeus fathered his many children felt._

Except Zeus was at least a primarily good god. She'd entangled herself with the very One whom she'd dedicated her life to fighting.

_Entangled? Well, I guess one euphemism is as good as another. And we were pretty entangled last night…_

She sat up and massaged her temples.

_Okay, so I know _what _I did. But what do I do now? How the hell can I return to life like it never happened? How do I explain to Dad why I no longer go to see Brandon? How do I spell against Him when I remember his hands gently caressing… _She drew in a deep breath as she thought of his hands dancing over her bare skin, touching, stroking, exploring…

_Stop it, Nita! _she scolded herself firmly. _He's the Lone Power._

_But, damn it, he was _good.

_Get control of yourself!_

Nita let out a long string of curses and fell back on the bed—and then popped up again as the doorbell rang.

She cursed once more, pulling herself out of bed and down the stairs to answer the door. She glanced through the peek hole to discover:

"Kit? What are you doing here?" she asked she swung open the door.

Kit's eyes widened as he looked at his best friend. He had seen her when she was less than composed many times before, but today she looked simply awful. "I didn't wake you, did I? I know you got in late last night, but you usually don't sleep _this_ late, and I figured… are you okay?"

"You didn't wake me." Nita sidestepped his last question.

"Good. I was just going to see if you wanted to get some lunch, but you don't look… um… quite ready to go out."

Nita snorted. She hadn't yet looked in a mirror, but she figured that that had to be the understatement of the century. "I just got up a few minute minutes ago."

"Yeah, I…" Kit looked at her more intensely. "Have you been crying?"

_Only for the past eight hours. No big deal._

"Did something happen with Brandon?" he pressed. "Did you guys have a fight?"

"Not exactly." Nita chewed her lip, wincing as she bit an already-tender spot. "We…" She raised her eyes to ceiling, as if its white bumps would give her the answers to her predicament.

Kit gently took her arm and led her to the sofa, pulling her down beside him.

Nita tried to start again. "Brandon is…" She stopped. _How much to tell him? How to tell him? _She sighed. "He and I…we… did something we shouldn't have."

Kit nodded slowly, halfway expecting this answer, but still slightly shocked upon confirmation. He said nothing.

"I went to his apartment after dinner and we… got carried away. Ended up…" She gestured desperately, struggling to articulate the situation to Kit.

He covered her hands with his own, stilling them. "I understand." It was his turn to grope for words. "Was it… consensual? I mean… did he pressure you into to doing something you didn't want to do or…"

Nita laughed, a single bitter note. "Or," she said, admitting it to herself as well as Kit. "He didn't make me doing anything I wasn't a willing participant in."

Kit sighed, relieved. "Good. If he forced you, I was going to go take him out." He looked into her face, unable to decipher the emotion flittering across it. "Listen," he started, cupping her face in his hand. "I know you are upset about this, but stop beating yourself up. So you screwed up—or rather, someone. You're human. It happens. You've joined the majority of teenagers who follow their hormones rather than emotionless logic. Big deal. It doesn't lower my respect for you; you shouldn't let it lower your respect for yourself."

"Oh, Kit…"Nita fought back another wave of tears. Trust him to be so damn understanding. But he didn't know the worst part. _Should I tell him? I have to tell him. Will he understand?_

"Kit—"

He grabbed a Kleenex from the coffee table and wiped away her tears. "Maybe you made a bad decision. But it's over and done with. There's no use beating yourself up over it. I'm not going to tell you to forget it, because you shouldn't—but at least use your mistake constructively. I don't imagine you used any sort of protection if it happened so quickly?" Nita shook her head. "Look—no one but you can decide whether to continue your relationship with Brandon—least of all me. But if you do continue the physical aspects, as least promise me you'll protect yourself, okay? I don't want to see anything bad happen to you."

Nita covered her face with her hands, groaning. She hadn't even considered physical consequences of her actions; she'd been too busy worrying about the implications of being in a relationship with the Lone Power. What if she was pregnant? What if he had given her some sort of disease?

"Hey." Kit was peeling her hands away from her face. "I'm sure you are fine. Now, why don't you go shower quickly, and we'll see about that lunch."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The doorbell rang. Nita scampered to answer it, wondering who it could be. She had just returned home from lunch with Kit twenty minutes ago. His reassurances had gone a long way toward making her feel better, though the unconfessed secret of Brandon's identity still loomed over her. Surely it wasn't Kit back again…

She opened the door to a florist deliverywoman holding a dozen red roses.

"Nita Callahan?" Nita nodded, numb. "Someone must love you an awful lot. Here you go." The woman handed Nita the flowers and returned to her car.

Nita slowly shut the door and laid the flowers on the table. A card peeked out at her.

She slid the small white slip of paper from its envelope and read:

_Why save a world that gives you nothing but guilt from someone who gives you nothing but love?_


	8. Castigation

**This chapter is a bit of an experiment with my writing, so bear with me. At the last Writers' Guild meeting I attending, the speaker, a published author, spoke of being careful not to let bodies disappear during dialogue. I realized what she was talking about as I reread this chapter, so I sought to incorporate her advice while I was revising. I think the chapter is better for it, but it is, as I stated, an experiment without confirmed results.**

**For those of you who think Kit was a bit blasé last chapter, be patient. His time is coming. I was going to give him this chapter spot, but I was too hung up on the beginning of this scene. I loved the image of Nita yelling and flinging roses as He just calmly and smiled at her, perhaps lounging on the coach as she whirled with fury around him. **

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He didn't react as Nita appeared in his apartment. She flung the roses at Him, thorns snagging the flesh of His fragile human form.

"What the hell are these about?"

Almost idly, He picked up the scattered foliage. "Ah, the ungratefulness of women. I thought you would like them."

"Don't even give me that. And what do you mean, 'nothing but love?' You killed my mother!"

"Now, Nita, dear, you know that is untrue. It was your mother's time, quite apart from any action of my own. I believe _I_ offered you a chance to save her, a chance you did not take." He offered her the gathered bouquet.

"Screw you," Nita spat, tears threatening to spill on to her cheeks. Anger consumed her, momentarily overshadowing self-worthlessness.

"I believe you already did that." He shrugged, and walked across the room and pulled a glass from the cabinet.

"What happened to leaving me alone?"

"You may want to review that conversation carefully." Still moving with what appeared to be casual grace, He filled the glass with water and dropped the roses in it. "I said that you were free to go and that I would not force you. I believe I also said that you would come back and look—here you are." He spread his arms as if to embrace her.

She shied away, ignoring the heat from His body and the strange things it did to her own. "Only to reiterate that I want you out of my life for good. I want nothing more to do with you. No visits, no phone calls, no flowers. _Leave me alone_."

"The ice in your voice, Nita dearest, could reverse global warming. But you are so tantalizingly attractive when you are angry."

"Don't patronize me."

"Okay." Instead, He slid His arms around her and pulled her into a kiss. She struggled, but He was unrelenting. She felt her resolution slipping, but then guilt pressed into her chest like some tremendous weight, crushing any other stirrings.

She wrenched away.

"Come on…"

"No." She spun abruptly in the opposite direction, facing the bare white wall, so clean and pure… so unlike her.

"What is it going to hurt?" He asked, mildly, as if he were asking about the weather.

Nita threw up her hands in frustration. "That's a list that could take all day, but for starters, we didn't use an sort of protection last time, so who knows what sort of diseases you gave me, not to mention how much I'd just love to tell my father that I'm pregnant by the Lone Power. As fun as that would be to explain, I think I'll pass."

He reached around from behind, suddenly lifting her shirt several inches and tracing a dozen characters in the Speech on her stomach. He spread his hand over them as He spoke a single word aloud. The characters glowed golden before sinking into her skin, tingling as they went.

She froze. "What did you just do?"

"Put an end to your worries. You won't get pregnant now."

"_What_?" She whirled around to face him.

"It is not permanent. Actually, it is not even all-inclusive. You will not get pregnant by me. Cellular aversion. Our gametes avoid one another. I thought you would appreciate that, even if it _is_ rather ironic: You are drawn to me, even against your better judgment—although I cannot fathom why you would harbor any judgments against me—and I am drawn to you—without reservations on my part. Yet when we are ultimately together, we avoid one another on a very basic level."

"I don't like you using Power on me," she snapped.

"No double standards." He waggled his finger at her. "You have used power over me since the first day in the park."

"I have never."

"Maybe not wizardry, but you have me completely captivated." He smiled suggestively, reaching for her.

Nita stepped back, out of his reach. "I never altered your physical make-up."

"Nor I yours—though you may want to review some of your past actions in wizardry regarding _my_ make-up. Look, it is entirely and instantly reversible—and only by you. If you want it off, just trace your name over the area and speak aloud the ending words. But I cannot imagine why you would: now, you do not have to worry about anything." He reached for her again. "Diseases are also a non-issue. I have none."

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"

"I'm devastated at your lack of trust, darling." She flinched at the endearing term. "You should really work on that cynicism, or you will be miserable for the remainder of your life. This body never had any sexual encounters before you, so unless _you _have given _me_ something, it is not an issue."

"You might pick something up from someone else you are involved with." Nita felt part of her resolution slipping as he casually tossed away each of her earlier worries.

"There is no one else. I do not want anyone but you. Stop grappling for feeble excuses— _I want you_. I have all the time left in the universe to pursue you, but I would prefer not to wait."

The guilt washed over her in a tidal wave, wiping out the small _What would it hurt? _that arose. _Dad, Kit, me…_ "Never again."

"Come now," he asked, sweeping her hair to the front. "You do not really mean that, do you?" He planted a line of kisses along the back of her neck.

"S-stop it," she stuttered, shivering. "I don't want to—" The guilt became a sea serpent, squeezing her heart.

"Then leave," he smirked, not letting her go. His lips brushed the tender skin behind her ear. Hormones assailed the guilt, not eradicating it, but sending it scurrying away into a hole of irrational rationalization.


	9. Confusion

**A short chapter this time, a small peek into Kit's side of the events, a bit of ground work for future chapers. This is turning out to be a lot longer than I originally intended. I'm looking for 45 reviews before the next update.**

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"Nita?" Kit knocked. "Nita, I brought you some dinner. Some of Mom's frijoles refritos."

No answer.

Kit sighed. Where was she? She had to be home. Where else would she be? Maybe she was asleep. He knocked once more. "Nita, I'm coming in, okay?" Kit spoke softly to the doorknob, just as he had the night before. And, just like the previous night, the tumblers of the lock gladly fell out of place for him.

"Nita, it's just me," he called out to the house. He made his way upstairs, to see if she had simply gone to bed early. He quietly opened her door and peeked inside. Empty. Just like last night.

She was supposed to call the Rodriguez's before she went out anywhere. But it seemed she hadn't called as she had been instructed to—just like last night.

In fact, for Kit, the entire evening was turning into a repeat of last night. After waiting up until the wee hours of the morning for Nita's call, worrying about her safety, he had called her house, thinking that perhaps she had returned home and forgotten to call. Receiving no answer, he had tried to contact her mentally. He reached her, of course, but she dodged several of his questions. After replaying her vague answers in his mind, Kit made a quick visit to her house—to confirm his suspicions that Nita had not come home at all. Then he had spent the rest of the evening staring at his ceiling and wondering what he was going to do. He must have lived through a thousand conversations with Nita in his mind, which ranged from her laughing off the erroneous conclusions he had jumped to to angry exchanges to heart-felt confessions, eventually deciding that he would confront her the next morning, hoping for the first scenario. But he didn't even have to confront her. She had confessed everything, and he played his part of dutiful, consoling best friend, biting back all his angry retorts.

And here was how she reacted—running off after Brandon again without so much as notifying the Rodriguezes she was leaving, as she had promised her father she would.

_You're jumping to conclusions again! _He scolded himself, hoping it was true.

_Well, they turned out to be true last night._

_That doesn't mean they always will._

Then he noticed the kitchen table—or rather the empty vase, the small note, and the single fallen rose petal.

"_Croquetas de pescados_," Kit swore.

She had gone back to him. Already. Kit let out another string of curses, having used up all his patient understanding earlier in the day. When he'd told her no one but her could decide whether to continue the relationship with Brandon, he'd done so with complete confidence that she would come to her senses and end the relationship. What in the Powers' names was wrong with her?

Kit picked up the note, knowing he had no right to read it, but curious all the same. His brow furrowed as he read the short, unsigned note.

"Why save a world that gives you nothing but guilt from someone who gives you nothing but love?" he repeated it aloud slowly, wondering if he was missing something.

What the hell?


	10. Shame

**Rather short, but you guys reviewed a lot faster than I expected. I have AP testing all this week, as well as one next week, so I'm mainly devoted to Calculus, Biology and other mad awesome things like that these days. But it's 6:00 AM and I'm too nervous to sleep… so here's a chapter. Well, about half a chapter, but since I promised to update at 45, and this is as good of a chapter-ending spot as any, I decided to post it. Enjoy—and let's make it to 60! ;) **

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He wrapped His arms around her and pulled her close. "Mmmm… Marvelous," He whispered in her ear, nuzzling her neck. 

With no more distractions keeping it at bay, the guilt-serpent returned, winding its way throughout Nita's chest. _What have I done? …again. _

"You're so tense," He whispered. "You should be relaxed now."

With no words she had not said in vain three times before, Nita simply turned away from him, silent.

"Come on. This part is good, too." He tried to snuggle close to her, but she started to pull away. He held tight. "Do not be like that." He propped himself up on one side and began massaging her shoulders. "What is wrong?"

Nita sunk her fingers deep into her hair, curling them around her locks in utter frustration. When she pulled them out, her hair followed, flowing over her face, covering her, shielding her from that room, but it did not—could not—shield her from His voice or her own troubled conscience.

"Do not hide, Nita. You have not done anything worth the trouble of shame."

"Somehow we disagree on moral boundaries."

"I never had patience for that hypocritical morality bullshit. 'Sex is the most awful, filthy thing on earth, and you should save it for someone you love.' Please. I am what I am: nothing more, nothing less. So are you. Accept it, and enjoy life. You do not get that much of it."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Oh, we are back to that again, are we?"

"Can we get away from it?"

"Does it matter?"

Though her first response was yes, a growing part of her could almost honestly answer no.

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+Quote by Butch Hancock 


	11. Reverie

**Last night, I was convinced I would never get 60 reviews because I didn't have that much of a readership. But since I'm through with all my testing and schooling, I didn't really have much of an excuse not to write, and Nita and the Lone Power kept talking in my head, with the occasional furious word from Kit (He keeps speaking angrily in Spanish, but since I took four years of French, I have no idea what he's saying or what sort of nasty names he's calling me. Perhaps I'm better off not knowing.). But then, I checked the reviews page this morning, more out of habit than out of the expectation that the number would have budged from 55, where it's been for a week. Lo and behold, 60 reviews! So I finished up this chapter. Very little action–it takes place mostly in Nita's mind. Is it 70 reviews I sense?**

**Sylviamaris—I was going to e-mail you to see what you thought was weird about the Lone Power's words, but you didn't have an address posted. E-mail me a clarification, if you want, so I can see about remedying the situation. This is a work in progress and I'm always open to criticism. No one ever learned anything from a compliment, and I want to improve my writing, so critique away, all of you.

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Nita let herself into her house in the early evening, hoping her father and Dairine had not yet arrived. She sighed in relief when she realized the house was still empty. She had decided what she was going to tell her father: absolutely nothing. If only her mother were still alive—she could talk to her...

Nita bit back tears first, and then a wave of shame. _I'm sleeping with my mother's killer._

'_That is untrue,' _his words echoed through her mind again/_ 'It was your mother's time, quite apart from any action of my own. I believe I offered you a chance to save her, a chance you did not take.'_

And yet...

She shook her head violently, hoping to clear it of its thoughts. A lot of her guilt and self-loathing has dissipated today as she came to the realization that she could either leave him completely or embrace him completely—she could not continue straddling the fence, both hating and loving being with him.

She wished again she had someone to discuss the situation with besides just Him—He was hardly an objective third party that could advise her. Her father was out, as was Dairine, her mother was dead and Kit... well, somehow she didn't think Kit would understand, despite all his patience understanding the other day—yesterday. Had it really been only a day?

Now that she thought about it, Kit was a little _too _understanding. It was almost as if he already knew, and had planned out what he was going to say to comfort her... But how could he know? Had he been spying on her? If he'd known what she'd done, would he know who Brandon really was? She shook her head again to clear it. She was being paranoid. She had never been good with secrets or dishonesty—now she was practically bathing in both. She could not even lie, not with her wizardry, so she was stuck with half-truths. Yet her wizardry caused her to seek higher truth, full truth, in everything... of course, her wizardry also compelled her to _fight _the Lone Power—

She sighed, wandering into the kitchen. It greeted her with the remains of the flower delivery, which she scrambled to clean up to avoid awkward questions.

_Yes, father, I did get flowers—from Brandon. Well, they aren't here because I had told Brandon only hours before that I wanted him the hell out of my life. Why? Oh, well, you see... he's really the Lone Power, which I discovered right before consented to have sex with him. So, when I got the flowers, I was rather angry about it, so I snatched them up, popped into his room, and threw them at him. We fought, and then we screwed. Then we played with the flowers a little and screwed again. So you see, it's really quite simple to explain..._

Yes, that would go over well.

She picked up the vase, rinsed it out, then stashed it in the cabinet with the other vases. Noticing the fallen petal, she picked it up and held it to her face. The flowers. Oh, the moment with the flowers. She sank into a chair as she sank back into her memory of the tenderness of that moment...

"_I do hate to say I told you so, but…" He glanced at her wryly, picking up a flower from the floor. Her mind was still turning over his words a moment before. _Hypocritical morality bullshit...

"_Stop moping." Using the rose, he traced from her navel to her nose and back again. "You should be happy now."_

_She tensed under the gentle caress of the rose, as it brushed her neck, her face, then began another slow journey from nose to navel. He begin to pluck off petals and lay then on her torso, forming a red fragrant shirt._

_Nita lay, transfixed. He moved with such gentle precision and grace. Moments like this made her forget His true identity. For this minute, she was not sleeping with the enemy, but engaged in an intimate moment with a loving, compassionate human._

_When he had placed all the petals, He began to remove them, kissing each bare patch of skin as He revealed it. When he took off the last petal, He kissed her full on the mouth. She returned the kiss, too dizzy with pleasure to do anything else. _

"_I knew the flowers would bring you back," He whispered into her ear. "I wanted to gloat more before, but I was afraid that pesky pride of yours might overrule your desire for me."_

_The tender moment shattered. "I hate you," Nita spat, reminding herself more than him as anger manifested itself, the one tangible, easily identifiable feeling arising out of her confused emotions._

"_We can work with that," he grinned lecherously and pulled her back to him for an entirely different experience. _

A door slammed, jolting her from her reverie.

"We're home!" her father called. "Are you?"

"In–in the kitchen," she returned, shoving the note and the petal into her pocket.

Her father appeared, laden down with bags.

"I thought you might be a Brandon's." He dumped the bags on the table.

"I spent a lot of time with him yesterday," she said, following her father back out to the car to unload. _And last night and this morning and all day today, really..._

Dairine, flushed with excitement, babbled on and on about the weekend, but Nita could barely concentrate.

"...next time, you and Brandon should come with us, it was so much fun, and Kit could come, too, 'cause Dad's says we might get a new tent since this one leaks a little and you could stay in the old one as long as it isn't raining, there'd be plenty of room and..."

Nita snorted. Somehow, she didn't think that living in the woods with Brandon, her father, Dairine, _and_ Kit would be the best way to preserve her secret. But then, for the second time in the last two days, she recognized that she was only laughing to keep from crying, realizing what a long path of deception lay before her, if she was going to keep the truth of her relationship hidden.


	12. Justifications

**Another chapter– longer than some of the recent ones and quite different from the rest of the story. It's moving right along... only a little bit left now. Well, enjoy! Next update at 85 reviews.**

**I don't know if any ardently fundamental Christians are reading this (Why an over-the-top fundamentalist would be reading not only the Young Wizards series, but this fic in particular, I don't know.), but there is some discussion of (gasp!) evolution as a truth in this chapter. I'm forewarning you so you can leave now. If I get any "You believe in evolution and not in literal creationism according to a strictly literal interpretation of the bible– you're burning in hell!" reviews, I'm going to be quite displeased.

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"Soyo!" He exclaimed, sitting up abruptly and pulling on clothes. Nitarose a bit more groggily.

"What?"

"I told Mrs. Andrewsii I would be there at six to walk Soyo. She asked me not to be late this time—which, I confess, I have been quite a bit lately, with _someone_ distracting me—because she was having company."

"So, now I'm just a distraction?"

"Have you not always been?" He laughed at her mock scowl. "At least you are a _good _distraction," He said, grabbing her.

She dodged his grasp and began stepping back into her own clothes. "I guess I'll see you Thursday, then."

"Do not leave so soon. Come with me."

"What?"

"Come with me. We have not been out in public together since—since the restaurant. That was nearly three months ago. I am beginning to think you only want me for the sex."

"It's taken you this long to figure that out? Besides, _you _have no room to talk."

"True, true."

Nita shook her head. Beneath her playful banter lay a pit of self-loathing. She returned home every evening from being with Him, drowning in guilt and determined not to go back. Yet, nearly every afternoon, she found herself there, in His apartment, between His sheets. She was somewhat more comfortable with the situation now, especially when she was with Him, resigning to engaging in a relationship with one she detested because she did not have the will power to stop. Everyone has a vice—with some it was coffee or chocolate, with others it was gossip or malice. Hers was simply an innocent sordid liaison with her eternal enemy.

"I don't believe you've invited me anywhere since the restaurant." She hooked her bra and raised an eyebrow at Him.

"You would not have gone," he told her, zipping up his pants.

"And how do you know that?" First one sock, then the other.

He gave her a look, a wry, somewhat patronizing look, and said, "How do you _think_ I know that?"

Without a retort, Nita sighed. They had both finished dressing at this point, and before Nita could refuse, He grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of His apartment to one across the hall. His knock was answered by a small, white-haired lady and a happy, jumping Soyo.

"Good evening, Mrs. Andrewsii," He said, bowing deeply.

"Oh, you're always such a chivalrous gentleman, Brandon," she chuckled. Nita snorted at the irony. _If she only knew_...

"And who is this skeptical young lady?" she asked, turning to Nita.

He slipped an arm around Nita's waist. "This is my girlfriend, Nita."

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing. You're mighty lucky to have captured the heart of such a sweet young man."

"Well, we'll be getting on our way," He said quickly, grabbing Soyo's leash as He saw the sarcastic quip forming on Nita's tongue. Nita bit back both the quip and a smirk and managed a small smile.

"Mrs. Andrewsii is a widow," He told her as his arm fell from her waist. They walked out of the building. "Her husband died right before I moved in here. She has one daughter that lives in California and does not want her bothersome mother living out there with her. Soyo is all she has left, but she cannot get him out and or play with him like she used to. So I walk him a couple times a week for her."

Nita looked at Him oddly for a moment, and then, to cover up her respect for this kind gesture of the Lone Power, asked, "I wonder how she would feel if she knew her beloved, chivalrous dog-walker was the very _reason _she's no longer as young as she used to be."

"I will never know, because she will never know." They strolled now without touching or looking at one another, walking and speaking together, but never interacting, never displaying any of the millions of small gestures, looks, or actions of lovers enjoying one another's company.

"Don't you ever feel guilty?" Nita pressed. "I know you don't abide by our moral standards—that is clear enough—but don't you ever look around at the world and see Mrs. Andrewsii crying over the lost of her husband—children, abandoned on the streets—beggars, wasting away without even enough food to eat—teenagers slitting each others' throats over a pair of tennis shoes—don't you ever look at that and feel guilty? Don't you ever wonder what it would be like if you hadn't interfered? Don't you ever wish everyone could just be happy, without the pain, starvation, the wasting away, and the death your 'gift' introduced?"

He gazed at her for a long moment, His hand tightening on the leash in his hand.

"Perhaps this is what you are mistaking, Nita. I did not invent pain or hunger or competition for resources or anger or malice. I invented release. I made the solution. The others originated as unfortunate side effects to Our creation. There is only a limited amount of energy in the universe, Nita, but that is not My fault. I did not create entropy. It just _is_. I created a method that let Us use the energy more effectively by recycling some of the energy back into the system."

Seeing she was not convinced, He looked around drew in a deep breath.

"The first organisms were heterotrophs, did you know that?" He asked finally. "In Their far-reaching wisdom, my Brothers and Sisters made organisms that had to have an intake of energy from an external source to survive. But where was this energy to come from? They did not know, so They made the autotrophs, who could make their own food. But it was too late for the heterotrophs, who had begun to metabolize stray carbon compounds and had multiplied across the first planet. Soon, those compounds would be used up, and then what?"

He paused, giving her a chance to answer. Nita said nothing, but walked on, listening intently. He continued, "In another oversight, They had made organisms capable of reproducing themselves without any manner of getting rid of the older organisms. They would all continue to live, ageless, while the population grew larger and larger and the food resources grew smaller and smaller. What then, Nita? What would you suggest, all mighty and all-knowing?"

Again He paused, and again she did not answer.

"Nothing. There was nothing else to do. I tried to explain this to the other Powers, but They did not even see the problem, for They were too blinded by the glories of Their creation and Their own perceived grandness. So, alone I took steps. I introduced death, yes, but as a solution to both the hunger and population problems—old organisms would die out, replaced by the new ones they had previously begot. The new heterotrophs could metabolize the carbon from the bodies of other deceased organisms. It was perfect." He finally stopped walking and turned towards her, pleading with his eyes for her agreement, for someone to finally recognize that His gift really was just that, a gift and not a curse. Her face remained stony, her eyes, noncommittal.

He sighed and began walking again. "The other Powers were abhorred by My solution to a problem They did not recognize as even existing. Believing Me to be destroying Their creation instead of saving it, They cast Me out. Eons later, here I am." He gestured widely.

Nita chewed her lip, pondering all that He had said. After a pregnant pause, she ventured, "But surely there was another way. Couldn't You have made all the organisms autotrophs from then on? Couldn't You have made organisms that didn't reproduce, so that there wasn't a population problem? Surely–"

He shook his head. By now, they had reached the park. He reached down slowly to unclip Soyo's leash. "Do you not think that I thought of all that? But there was no other way. None."

He watched the dog bound away and circle several trees. He led Nita to a bench and sank down on it. "Think about it, Nita. Even if We made all the organism from there on out autotrophs, what about the first heterotrophs? Without the ability to die, they would live on, scrounging for stray compounds. But, eventually, their food source would run out and they would starve—not to death, you see, for they could not. Instead, they would remain miserable for eternity, unable to do more than simply exist, day to day, in horrible hunger and pain.

"We tried forming worlds entirely of autotrophs, by the population problem still exists. Without the ability to reproduce, however, organisms cannot adapt to their surroundings. You would not be here. Most of the species in the universe would not be here. Contrary to popular belief, the Powers do not micro-control every aspect of every world. They set the world in motion, with different factors, and see what happens. You have studied evolution in school—while there are some errors in the human perspective of it, your scientists have a good idea of how the Powers go about creating. We—well, They, now—start small. Small creations are easier and take less energy. They develop the world, introduce an array of small organisms, and watch what path the organisms take. It is just a giant science project, one could say. What will happen if We make the planet with a methane atmosphere? What organisms will become dominant or sentient if We place the sun this far away?"

"So much for loving, compassionate gods," Nita scoffed.

"Of course, you are not referring to Me..."

"Oh, never."

"That is what I thought." He nuzzled her, ignoring her sarcasm.

She pushed Him off. "Not here. Not in public."

"No one is watching." He moved against her insistently.

"Maybe not at the moment, but someone will—"

He pulled back and gestured around. Soyo, who had leaped after a squirrel, was frozen in mid-air. The squirrel was also frozen, in the middle of a frenzied scurry. A young girl stood on the path, one hand intertwined with her mother's and the other clutching an ice cream cone. Her tongue was out, touching the ice cream, but remaining motionless. Everything was motionless. An unnatural silence blanketed the scene.

"What have you done?" Nita cried, glancing about, as He scooped her up and laid her on the ground.

He hovered over her, not answering.

"Where were we?" He asked, his face looming ever closer to her own.


	13. Confrontation

**My work here is done! I now have all of you firmly in the Lone Power's court. Mwahahaha! **

**Okay, that wasn't my only work, but I've always thought of Him as basically a good guy who was doing what He perceived to be best, even if no one else saw it that way. Introducing death obviously wasn't a selfish action–he did it for the good of Their creation. But I digress. **

**A super huge thank you to Reading Redhead for beta-reading this chapter on short notice when I was feeling a bit insecure on its contents. Her comments helped me tweak the chapter a bit closer to perfection (though, alas, it is still far from it). She also caught several silly grammatical errors, keeping me humble in my tirade against the desecration of the English language by this amazing and terrible technology of the Internet. Any remaining errors are mine alone. Red, I'd bake you cookies if transporting them to you wasn't such a problem. **

**Just for the record, that last chapter is the only one in the story rooted firmly in research (Won't Richard Peck be proud...)–solid scientific research, it was. Autotroph is a real word–it's the scientific word that means an organism that synthesizes its own nutrients. Heterotrophs (which is also a real word) cannot synthesize their own nutrients; they must absorb them from another source. Most scientists agree heterotrophic organisms originated first, followed by the autotrophs (The first of which might have been chemioautotrophs and not photoautotrophs like I–or rather, the Lone Power**–**said last chapter.). Contact your local science text for more information if, for some strange reason, you are simply fascinated with prokaryotic organisms.**

**You guys sure have a soft spot for Kit, don't you? This is not his story, and the only reason he gets to be in it is that he is a big part of Nita's life. That gets him a little part here. Patience, my gentle readers. His time will come.**

**Thi– Think about the ending grammatically (Wow, that makes me sound like a nerd. :P) If the Lone One had no idea whereHe was, wouldn't He have asked "Where_ are _we?" instead of "Where _were _we?" "Where were we?" implies that He is start back up at something He at stopped doing momentarily. I do see how I could have made the ending better and clearer, though. Keep the criticism coming–it really helps. **

**Okay, now that you're sick of hearingme talk... On with the story! (Which will be continued after 100 reviews...)**

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"So..." 

"So...?"

So here he was. So here she was. Ten o'clock in a well-lit bedroom of a dark house. So here he stood and sighed, hands grasping frantically at air, as if the words and answers he was so desperately seeking were tangible, floating in front of him. He could snatch them if only...

But they were not tangible. His arms fell to his sides. They weren't even articulatable. Articulatable wasn't even a word.

_Damn it! Focus. Who the hell cares if articulatable is a word? That isn't the point._

So here he was. And so here she was. So here was the rift that had grown between them. So here he was trying to mend that rift, or at least acknowledge its presence while in her presence.

"So..." he began again, hoping he would find something articulatable this time. Something to shape the whorl of emotions flooding his mind. _Start simple, build up. Start simple, build up. Yeah, easier said than done._

"So you're sitting in my bedroom—uninvited—looking like you're getting ready to ask me if I killed your mother."

So here she was, angry and distant. Here she was so unlike his best friend, so unlike his strong wizardry partner. So changed in the last three months when she had been pulling way from him, becoming such the enigma.

"So..." he began for a third time, trying to maneuver the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go. "Where—where were you?"

"Excuse me?" She rolled her eyes toward him, nonchalantly flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes.

So here he was, a striking reminder of her own inadequacy. Here he was with his sympathy and his exasperating patience. Here he was despite all her attempts to keep him at a distance. To keep him from seeing through her façade. To keep him from seeing that she was living a double life.

So here she was trying to preserve her secret. And here he was trying to delve it out.

"Where were you?" he repeated, rising and walking toward her. Concern tainted strongly with frustration flowed from his fingertips as he tucked the truculent strand of hair behind her ear and softly picked out the flecks of grass, leaves, and small sticks that littered her messy ponytail.

So here she was, wracked with guilt she could not show. Here she was, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry or wince or shrug as the debris Kit picked off fluttered to the ground and her mind fluttered around her earlier excursion in the park.

She turned her head and shrugged away from him. "Why is that any of your business?"

So here he was, fed up with the cold shoulder. So here he was, a mess of emotions and a soon to be failure at reconciliation.

"Why do you have to be so goddamn cryptic?" He threw his manual on the floor. She hadn't noticed he was holding it. "It's not like I've been your best friend for several years. It's not like you've been avoiding me like the plague recently. And, speaking of plagues, it's not like you were supposed to meet me at Huxemburg Lab this evening to discuss with _Aroba Listrena _less lethal ways for it to broaden its selection of food sources. Because it sure is difficult to convince an entire species of virus not to turn its sights on the human race when only a single member of the said race is there."

So here she was, remembering that important engagement, and here he was, trying to forget what he discovered there.

The words floated across her mind—

"_Six-thirty at the lab, okay? It's important."_

—just as the flowing Speech character floated across his, along with the question that haunted him until he found out an answer he didn't want:

_What does it mean?_

He sank onto her bed. This was not how he wanted to start this discussion. But anger, so long repressed by him where she was concerned, flared violently. He tried to stifle it, but it had been too long stifled. Why? Why couldn't he control it? He wasn't going to reach her with anger.

_Who the hell am I kidding? I'm not going to reach her without anger either._

Kit flopped over and buried his head in her sheets. He took a deep breath, then propped himself up on one elbow.

"This is the first time I've been in your room in two and a half months, Nita. Do you realize that? Two and a half months. I used to be in here two or three times a week, working on homework or wizardry or just hanging out..." He drifted off, tilting his head to one side. He sighed. "There's no value in nostalgia, I know, but–"

She snatched her pillow out from under him. "Look, Kit, I realize I have been a little busy lately, and as pleasant as this stroll down memory lane is, it still does not justify your presence in my bedroom at 10:00 at night."

"A little busy?" His anger flared once more. "I'm lucky to get a half nod of acknowledgment in the hallway at school. Damn it, Nita, we're partners, and you haven't done one lick of wizardry with me since you started sleeping with Brandon."

She whirled on him, voice shaking. "What I do in my life, on my own time, is my own business and my business only. So if you've come here to give me any of your hypocritical morality bullshit, I—"

"You're right, Nita. You are absolutely right," he cut her off, standing. "What you do in your life and on your time is your own business. If you want to screw all the guys in the whole damn state, knock yourself out. But this isn't about your time and your life is not entirely your own. You pledged your life to fighting entropy, to lessen the savages of death. Part of your time—part of your _life_—has been dedicated to that. And it seems as if you've forgotten that lately."

"I've forgotten nothing, Kit," she said, tears springing to her eyes.

"Then you've simply disregarded it? Just, just up and disregarded your responsibilities, even as you kept full awareness of what those responsibilities were? Hell, Nita, is that so much better?"

"You don't know what you are talking about," she snapped, knowing even if as she said it that he knew exactly what he was talking about, that the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks were not tears of indignation or righteous anger, but of shame at being called out on the most terrible mistake of her life.

But she could not admit this to herself, and she could most definitely not admit it to Kit.

"Maybe you just can't admit that I'm changing, Kit. That my life is changing, and that the course it takes may not include you. Surely you've realized this these last several months. So perhaps now, you need to stop these ridiculous delusions of my inadequacy, and just be honest with yourself." Again, she knew the words she had spoken were wrong, that she was the one deluding herself. But this did not stop her from spiting such venom.

"Honesty? You want honesty? Okay, let's be honest. Who the hell is he, Nita? Who is this 'Brandon' you're so wrapped up in?" He muttered a word and plunged his hand deep into nothingness, pulling out his recent source of internal torment.

"What do you mean?" Fear flew to her face as her hand flew to her stomach, grazing the place where He had traced the characters what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Kit flung a glowing Speech character down in front of her. "Do you know what this means?"

Nita studied the character. It looked familiar. She had seen it before, recently... But where or what it meant, she did not know.

"I have no idea." Her anger faded a little as curiosity crept into her voice.

"That's pretty damn unbelievable since it's a character in your own damn name."

That's where she had seen it... her name. According to the manual. She had noticed it recently, but never took the time to look into what it meant.

"I–I really don't know," she stuttered, her voice catching.

"Are you lying to me or have you really become such a shabby wizard that you don't even bother to investigate non-initiated changes to your name? Either way it's pathetic." He gazed at her, hard and unfeeling, distant from his earlier passionate anger.

"Look, why don't you cut though all this B-rate private eye interrogation crap and tell me what the hell you are getting at. For that matter, why were you even messing with my name? You know how dangerous it is to mess with another wizard's na—"

"For your information, I was not 'messing' with your name. While I was waiting for you not to show up, I was preparing protection spells for us in case our planned discussion with _Listrena _took a nasty turn. I put in your name, with the intent of having you check it later, of course, so that you would not be hung high and dry if there were an emergency. But then, I noticed something curious. A symbol I had never seen in your name before." Kit started to pace, a metrical trek from the bed to the doorframe and back again, as if the regularity of his walk could regulate the situation.

"This is not terribly odd; people are always changing, and you seem to have done a lot of that lately. But I had never seen the character before. Again, not terribly odd, for while my Speech is fluent, it is not all inclusive."

"Get to the point already," she snapped, irritated by his newfound aloof arrogance and nervous at his pacing.

"I started looking in my manual. Started in the obvious places, chapters on Naming and Description. No luck. Then I noticed a subsection I'd never seen before, on Markings. Do you know what a Marking is, Nita?" He lifted his eyebrows, waiting for a response. She stared coolly back, hoping he did not see how much he had fazed her.

"Markings, apparently," he finally continued, "are symbols the Powers attach to wizards' names as a sort of signifying claimer. They Mark their heroes, their enemies, their pet projects, so that other Powers don't interfere. I was surprised that I had never heard of this before, until I read that Powers stopped Marking millennia ago. They came to the consensus that it was unfair to the mortal, that They should refrain from such direct interference in mortal lives, and that They do not have the right to claim a particular mortal as Their own.

"Yet, _you_ have a Marking, Nita." He turned that gaze upon her again, that aloof, arrogant gaze, as if he knew all the answers, but was patiently waiting for her to confirm that she knew them, too. "I first thought there must be some mistake, but no. No, there was that elusive character staring clearly out at me from the page." He paused as he realized his voice of reaching a pitch of hysteria. Collecting himself, he continue with an air of calm he did not feel. "Do you know what Marking you have, Nita? Do you know what that glowing character signifies you as?" His lips twisted sardonically, completely outside his control.

She shook her head, her brow furrowed, studying the character that still floated between her and Kit.

"That," he declared with an abrupt gesture, "That is the Mark Powers bestowed upon Their lovers."

Nita sank to the bed in shock.

Kit continued pacing. "'Their lovers?' I asked myself. Surely there must be some mistake. Surely, _I _was mistaken. Surely you couldn't hold this title. You couldn't be Marked. The Powers had forbidden Marking among themselves. So what Power would risk the anger of His or Her fellow Powers to Mark a mortal lover?"

"I–I—" Blood trickled down her lip from a nervous bite that was too forceful. She didn't notice.

"No, go on," Kit said, pausing in front of her with what appeared to be a mildly amused smirk dancing across his face. "Tell me, Nita. Tell me. Who is it exactly? Surely you know? After all, you're the one screwing Him."


	14. Altercation

**The Golden Reviewer Star to Serpent's Mask** **for realizing that Kit's OOCness was completely intentional, a result of the information he has discovered and a cover for the utter turmult he is going through. I must admit I've felt like I've completely failed in Kit's role, as I read review after review telling me Kit took the news too easily. I'd hoped you'd see he was lying through his teeth—well, not lying, perhaps, but completely faking the calm, a facade that Nita should have seen through had she been focusing at all on Kit, had she not been too caught up in herself.Then after Mere saidKit had never talked like that, I wanted to weep. Of course he had never talked like that, and he was only talking like that now because he was processing an enormous amount of information and trying to confront his best friend without snapping or breaking down. I was trying to be subtle, but it obviously didn't work. If I rewrite this, I will try to be more explicit with Kit's reactions. But again, kudos to my perceptive readers. **

* * *

Her confession sat between them like a poisonous viper, coiled innocently after a strike. The two words echoed throughout Kit's head, leaving him with only one clear, coherent thought:

_It's time like this I wish I drank._

He'd never favored alcohol, looked with disdain at those who hid from their problems rather than face them, but this was one situation he would gladly drown in a fifth of whiskey. A drunken stupor to forget the symbol, to imagine those two words as the result of some drug-induced hallucination, because he could far more readily believe that he was in a drug-induced hallucination than believe the words that had just come spilling out of her mouth.

A full five minutes passed without a sound.

Nita lifted her tear-streaked face. "Say something. Please. Yell at me, rant and scream, throw insults—I don't care. But don't just stare at me like I'm some sort of—"

"Tell me you're lying," Kit cut in, clenching his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Tell me that this symbol allows you to lie without consequence to protect your lover's identity. Tell me—"

She shook her head slowly, and Kit's heart crashed through the floor. He turned away, unable to look at her as he formulated his thoughts.

"It's not as bad as it seems." Nita twisted her hands, not quite daring to look Kit in the face. "In Brandon, He's really quite a nice guy, after you get beyond the condescending sarcasm, and—"

Kit let out a strangled sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Quite a nice guy? Damn it, Nita, He's the enemy."

"I know, Kit, but–but we've moved beyond our roles in the universe," Nita said, her voice unnaturally even. "We know we may face each other in battle someday and that we'll be opposite sides of the fight, but we're both okay with that. We've stopped trying to convince the other side of _our _side's merit. It's no longer an issue when we're together."

"That's because He knows He's already won," Kit spat, fighting the nausea that her rehearsed spiel was causing him.

"What?"she bristled, drawing back defensively.

"Oh, come on, Nita. We both know you'd never sacrifice someone you loved if you there was any way to avoid it. You would die trying to save someone else; you'd never destroy them yourself."

"I don't love Him," Nita insisted, relieved to finally say something completely honest, finally a phrase that did not involve lying to Kit or to herself. Kit merely raised his eyebrows. "Really, there's no love. It's not about love. Just sex."

"God, Nita," he winced, hitting his forehead with his hand.

"You don't understand. You've never been...intimately involved with anyone, especially someone like Brandon. He's so amazing; it's so amazing—"

"I can't listen to this," Kit shuddered, resuming his pacing."We've got to get you out of this. We've got to get you away from Him."

Nita reared up, furious. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"We've got to get you away from Him," Kit repeated. "Somehow, He's got you infatuated with this Brandon character of His, and—"

"Haven't you heard what I've been saying?" They stood nose to nose. "I don't want to 'get away' from Him."

"But if you spend some time away, maybe we can overcome this power He has over you and—"

"'We' aren't doing anything. This isn't about 'we'—this is about me. He has no power over me; everything has been of my own free will."

"I know that's what you think, but—"

"I'm not a damsel in distress, Kit, and you sure as hell aren't my knight in shining armor. I don't need saving. I don't need rescuing." Kit took a step back as she advanced. "I need you to leave me damn well alone and keep your busybody sleuthing shit out of my life."

The barbs pierced his skin like the thorns of some angry briar. "Your life?" Kit drew in a shaky breath, then proceeded with more force. "Your life? When did you become such a self-centered bitch, Nita? This isn't about _you_—this isn't even about us. This is about the universe. This is about entropy. This is about protecting the world from the evils He has turned on it. Does the Oath mean nothing to you anymore? Just–just throw everything for some fleeting physical pleasure, with no thought to all the people He as made die, all the families He has destroyed, all the worlds He had ruined, all the pain and destruction He has wrought? Damn it, Nita, do you not even care?"

Nita rubbed her temples. How to make him understand? "He didn't cause entropy, Kit. It just _is_. Don't you see? All the evils in the world are not His fault. He invented death, yes, but as a release, as a relief. What would life be like without death, Kit? How would the universe maintain all that life without some sort of cycle of renewal? We aren't fighting Him, Kit; we're fighting to preserve the energy the world has left—something He tried to do by introducing death. We've only been getting a one-sided view of life's history. There could be no life without death."

"Yeah, He's just a great guy." Kit nearly wept as His words spilled from his best friend's mouth. "You're so wrapped up in Him, you don't even realize what you're doing, what He's done. How He's manipulated you."

"No, Kit. You don't see. You don't see that we're really on the same side. If the other Powers would stop stubbornly refusing Him, They could work together to—"

"Listen to yourself, Nita! Have you heard the arguments you're using? I don't know what backwoods, half-ass logic you've discovered, but—"

"Kit—"

"You can't simultaneously fight and fuck the Lone Powerཀ"

Her right hand rose, and for a moment he thought she was going to strike him. "I know what I'm doing, Kit," she said, voice shaking with intensity and unshed tears.

"I sure hope so, Nita. Powers, I hope so." He looked at her for one long moment, then turned and strode away.


	15. Epilogue

**And thus it ends... the final installment in what was originally going to be a three chapter story. But it grew into so much more. Sorry it's taken this long; I didn't get it done before I started work and had to wait until I finished. Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, for your comments, compliments, and criticisms. All of it helps so much, and the fact that you all take time to comment, even a little, is really rewarding. I hope you enjoy this ending... as much as one could enjoy something of this nature.**

**As you might have noticed, I finally bumped up the rating. So, if you feel so inclined, spread the word since my story no longer appears on the regular page. **

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He stood and watched. Watched, waited, and pondered. Pondered what could have been, what should have been, and what was. Glanced over the abrasive dust whipping around him, sank down on rock where they'd shared many memories, and looked out at the world where they'd shared so many more. Thought of his mistakes, his transgressions. Of her face and her angry words. Of her troublesand of his failures to solve them. Of how he would do anything to have a chance to help. To have a chance to go back to the way things had been before. To the way things would never be again.

He sighed and glanced around once more. He stood, looking again at the world, the world he'd promised to protect. They'd promised to protect. But it had changed. They were no longer protecting together, it seemed. He was alone. Alone on the moon, alone on the great planet looming before him, alone in the galaxy. He bit his lip, winced from the pain, and realized that it hurt a lot less than the pain inside. But more importantly, he realized that, like the fading pain in his lip, the pain inside would gradually subside, because regardless of the melodramas of individuals, life goes on. All life. And it would go on longer with him to protect it. He gazed deeply at the earth, and his chest swelled with pride as he simultaneously struggled with the immense burden that resided with him since he took the Oath. Then, without glancing back, he spoke the spell that would take him home to the responsibility and life that awaited.

**xxx**

She stood and watched. Watched, waited, and pondered. Pondered what could have been, what should have been, and what was. Glanced at the park debris lying at her feet, sank down on floor of the room where they'd shared many memories, and looked out the window at the world where they'd shared so many more. Thought of her mistakes, her transgressions. Of his face and their angry words. Of her troublesand of his attempt to solve them. Of how he would do anything to help her if she gave him a chance. To have a chance to go back to the way things had been before. To the way things would never be again.

She sighed and glanced around once more. She stood, looking again at the room in which she'd promised to protect the world. At the door where the one who had been protecting it with her stormed through. But it had changed. They were no longer protecting together, it seemed. She was alone. Alone in this room, alone on the earth stretching out her window, alone in the galaxy. She realized suddenly there was blood on her hand, realized it had dripped from her lip. She hadn't noticed the pain. She had numbed herself from it in recent days. But here Kit was, trying to stir up her life. Trying to make decisions for her. She gazed at the door, unable to focus her eyes, and her chest swelled with anger as she simultaneously struggled to keep back the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. Then, without glancing back, she spoke the spell that would take her away from home, to the path, however destructive, that she herself had chosen.

**xxx**

She appeared in the middle of His small apartment, eyes flying wildly around the room in search of Him. The moment she saw Him, she flung herself upon His body, mouth searching, hands groping, hungry, desperate—and angry. He responded, of course—how could He help it?—but He responded automatically, His mind locked in the previous seconds before, in the three seconds before this frantic connection. Her eyes had been puffy, her face, blotchy. Clearly, she had been crying. But why? And why had it driven her here?

He pulled himself into the current moment—she was tugging off His pants. With difficulty, He concentrated instead on the waves of emotion slamming against Him: her emotion. Lust, sure, but in much less force than should have warranted such a frenzy on her part. Shame. Self-doubt. Self-loathing. And anger. Mainly anger.

What had made her so angry? And what had brought back the other emotions, emotions that had been strong in the beginning, but that had subsided recently, replaced primarily by the lust? Who was she angry at? It wasn't Him; this much He could tell. He momentarily toyed with the idea of touching her forehand and siphoning off some of her anger. Of draining off the creases etched in her forehead by fury. Of easing the tension in her taut muscles. Of returning her to the soft, glowing Nita He had become... accustomed to. He dismissed this idea almost immediately. Her anger would drain, her features smooth out, and her muscles relax–but only until the moment she realized why she had become soft once again. Then her fury would return, but instead it would be directed at Him, for meddling with her emotion. This He wanted to avoid.

His hands brushed her bare back, feeling the muscles knotted beneath them. _What has made you so angry, my Nita? _He wondered.

But why did it matter? Why did any of it matter? Why was He blocking out His body's physical responses, acting automatically, rather than enjoying the moment—this being the moment she drug Him from the middle of the room on to the bed. They had had angry sex before, and it never bothered Him then. At the beginning, it was nearly all they had. But gradually her anger had faded; He had seen none of it recently. Why had it returned so strongly? Who was it directed at?

And why did it matter so much to Him?

**xxx**

He stood and watched. Watched, waited, and pondered. Pondered what could have been, what should have been and what was. Glanced over the sheets that twisted around the beautiful girl, sank down on bed beside her, and looked around at the windowless room that blocked them from the outside where they'd shared little but conflict. Thought of His mistakes, His transgressions. Of her face and many angry words. Of her troublesand of how He contributed to them. Of how He would never be able to do anything to help. Of how He never wanted to have to go back to the way things had been before. To the way things would never be again.

He sighed and glanced around once more. He stood, looking past the walls at the world He'd helped create, the world He'd worked so hard to improve. They'd ridiculed His improvements, cast Him out, Untouchable and Undesired. But it had changed. She had changed it. What began as a delightful game, having fun toying with mortals, had become so much more, had become... something he could no longer do. He was alone. Alone in His role, alone on the planet He had shaped with His Power, alone in the galaxy. He touched the lips of the body He wore, swollen and slightly sore from the pressure she had applied to them, winced from the pain, and realized that it hurt a lot less than the pain inside. But more importantly, he realized that, unlike the pain in the lip that would eave when He shed this form, the pain inside would never subside, because regardless of the sheer magnitude of life around Him—the life He had shaped in the beginning— He would never be a part of it, never touch any creation. He gazed deeply at the wall, holding all Creation in His mind's eye, and his chest swelled with pride as he simultaneously struggled with the immense pain that resided with him since the moment He realized what He had to do to make sure the Creation survived for as long as possible, if not in it's original form, than in one very similar. He looked down at the sleeping figure that had given Him so much pleasure these last several months and ran a hand over His current form. It was time for a change. Stooping toward her, He softly kissed her cheek, far more tenderly than might be expected from Someone of His unique caliber. Then, without glancing back, he strode firmly from the room, firmly from her life.


End file.
